The Power of Superior Pant Choice
by Pantharya
Summary: Youngster Calvin likes shorts, oh yes, he likes them very much. He wears them all year round, even in winter. He also likes Pokemon battles, even if they will only ever reach second place in his heart. First place, of course, going to shorts.


It was an amazingly sunny day. Not that Calvin could see it from where he was, but he knew it anyway. It was always sunny on Route 3.

He stretched his arms in anticipation. He was, of course, standing in his favourite place in the entire world. As it happened, this place was situated exactly between two sizeable rocky formations. They stood opposite each other, both before and behind him. To his left, there a small ridge-like cliff that jumped down to the path below. To his right, another small ridge type cliff, this one dropping down from the path above. It was the perfect spot. Just what it was precisely perfect for, well, he wasn't entirely sure, but he _knew _it was perfect. That much was just undeniable.

Calvin watched the skies eagerly, peering up at the only stretch of blue he could actually see from between the two rocks. Today was definitely the day. _He_ would come today. Calvin could feel it in his bones, in his soul, heck, he could feel it in his very _shorts_. There was no better indicator than that, and so, Calvin watched.

Just then he saw the very omen he'd been looking for. He yelled wordlessly with joy, tossing his arms in the air. Far above him the marvellous Pidgeot swooped slowly over head, eclipsing him in shadow for the briefest of moments as it flew West. He was coming! After all his this time he was finally coming! All the waiting had finally paid off. Getting up early? Totally worth it. Missing out on lunch? ... Okay, maybe not that part. But still!

The boy to Calvin's left shifted uncomfortably. Greg had spoken to him about this before, yet apparently he was still unconvinced. The other boy was just a _little_ bit worried over how excited Calvin got at times like these. His precise words had been "beyond all logical reason" and "utter insanity", and he had finished with "make a better choice," but what did he know? He was a Bug Catcher. Of course he didn't understand it. It was a bird thing. In his wide brimmed hat, clean white singlet and, best of all, light blue shorts, Greg was the very typical image of what one expected from a Bug Catcher - complete with his blue framed bug net.

Calvin had a sinking suspicion about Greg; being a bug catcher and all, Greg probably saw the Pidgeot as a type of dire treason against bug pokémon. Well, 'suspicion' was a strong word. It was more of a fleeting thought he'd just had, but the details didn't really matter. Calvin had, of course, tried to reason with him on multiple occasions. He had painted him pictures of Caterpie to make him feel better, and had even admired his fine taste in pant choice, yet no matter what he did, Greg had looked at him like a crazy person. He even had that same look now.

Taking the initiative, Calvin gave him the thumbs up and summoned the biggest smile he could muster. The other boy tightened the grip he had on his bug net. Calvin continued to smile. Greg suddenly turned and marched sullenly down the path, jumping off the ridge as he did so. Well, fine then! Calvin made a lewd gesture in reply. Much too late, of course, but it was the thought that counted. He could do it again later anyway. He only lived next door.

The sound of footsteps to his right made Calvin spin on the spot. No-one was there, yet, but a simple drop over the ridge was all it took. Then, he would be here; that one trainer who actually went out there and did things. He had seen it all on TV. There had been something about a city, and rockets, and some vague hints of a champagne ship, but the details didn't matter! This guy did stuff! Now, just think how great the world would be if he did them _while wearing shorts!_ It was a brilliant plan. Absolutely brilliant. Shorts would be worn, and the entire world would know the glory of superior pant choice!

Calvin was ready. He was dressed in his favourite clothes, standing in his most exciting battle stance. His yellow hat was turned backwards, of course - there was no cooler way to wear a hat than backwards! His blue shirt was pretty awesome too, but the pride and joy of his most esteemed outfit were his shorts. They were ... well, short. And yellow, definitely yellow. Best of all, they were comfortable and easy to wear. He had a pair of blue shoes on too, but did anyone really care about shoes? Nope! Who would stoop to shoedom if they could wear shorts?

With a sudden thump and the resulting spray of dust, he was there. Calvin grinned. That same boy, the trainer everyone knew. He looked the same as ever before. Same red shirt, with black sleeves. Same red cap, with white brim. Same ... blue jeans? What?! HERESY!

"You're still not wearing shorts! What's wrong with you?!"

Calvin was furious. The other trainer merely watched him, pokéball in hand. He wanted a battle? Calvin would give him a battle. This traitor was going down!

"Go! Spearow!"

In a dazzling flash, red light twisted and formed into Calvin's most trusted pokémon. With red wings and spiked up brown feathers, there was nothing more fearsome than Calvin's Spearow. Its beak was sharp, and its talons could tear through shorts themselves! Or at least, he assumed they could. He'd never seen it happen, god forbid he ever did, but this was hardly the time for detail.

In a second flash of red light the other trainer sent out his pokémon. A small yellow rodent stood before Spearow. Kinda small anyway. It was about the size of a large boot really – practically the size of Spearow itself. But size didn't matter. Spearow would win; it was a matter of fact. There was the teeny tiny issue of type disadvantage, but that was hardly relevant at all. Electricity? Bah. That was Tuesday talk! Today was _Wednesday_; the day of meatballs and salt shakers and, of course, Spearow! That was how the rules went as far as Calvin was concerned. When it came to pokémon battles, anything could happen, and as long as you thought your thoughts louder than the other trainer, you would win for certain! It was practically law!

"Spearow! Use your Leer attack!"

Obediently, Spearow ruffled its feathers, bird head furrowing forward as it got its angry face on. Calvin knew that look only too well, eyes glinting like steel; it was the same look Spearow gave him when he threw books at it.

By the time Calvin realised that his Spearow was, in fact, glaring at him and not the other pokémon, it was too late. Spearow cocked his head towards Calvin - just like he'd instructed him to when they'd practiced at home. He'd never thought to tell it to make it do anything otherwise.

Calvin swore then. Very, _very_ loudly.

Within seconds Spearow was down. The yellow mouse sparked triumphantly as it returned to its trainer, squeaking like the annoying mouse it was. Shuffling up next to his dearest Spearow, Calvin poked it with a stick. It glared at him, clearly still alive - thank goodness. He recalled his pokémon and let the feeling of defeat sink over him slowly. After all that time, after an _entire _afternoon of preparation, he had lost. All that practice, wasted. All those crayon diagrams, useless. He had lost!

_Lost! Lost! Lost! _

Clamping his mouth shut, he realised he had been speaking his thoughts out loud again. He had a bad habit of doing that. The other trainer was unphased though, standing patiently before him. He was waiting for ... something.

Oh. Right. With a grimace, Calvin dug into his pocket.

He handed over his pocket money, the same way he always did, and watched as the trainer wordlessly walked off again, jumping off the ridge and out of sight. Well, that had been a waste of time. No stunning victory, no awesome stories to tell, and worst of all, no new pair of shorts in the public eye. It was, however, still Wednesday, and if he hurried home he _might_ still be in time for meatballs. Meatballs_ with salt _even, his absolute favourite. Maybe Greg would come too. He still had a wicked picture of a Weedle to show him.

* * *

Tadaa! Pokemon NPC Power for all of you to enjoy : ) How could I resist writing about masster Shorts himself? Simply impossible! I Dare you to find a cooler Youngster, go on, I DARE YOU. After searching though the immense character list available for Pokemon fanfics however, I found that master Shorts is NOT on the list. And yet, Bidoof is? Boo Hiss Boo!

In other news, reviews are nice : D Pictures of bug pokemon are good too, if you have any of those lying around. I'm not accepting meatballs at the moment, however, so you can go ahead and eat those : )


End file.
